Causal Relationship
by Yubie
Summary: It's the year 1957. After graduating Hogwarts Hermione Granger works in the Ministry. Unexpectedly, she investigates Finch-Fletchley's death, who was murdered just two days after being appointed a head of investigation concerning murders of several Muggle-borns. Is it Grindelwald's ideology, or a new Dark Wizard rising? And who exactly is Mr. Riddle? AU.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"I'll be fine Harry." Hermione sighed for the fourth time this evening.

"Hermione, I know you think you can handle that and you're probably right, but… _Merlin_." This time it was Harry who loudly breathed out the air. "You know what I am talking about. Grindelwald is dead, but that doesn't mean prejudice is gone. He is a _Slytherin_ , Hermione. All I am saying is you should be careful around him, okay? They're called snakes for a reason." He looked in her eyes and started to shake his head.

"You think I'm overreacting?" he finally asked and Hermione noticed the first signs of irritation in his eyes. "A bit," She answered, and proceeded to wash the dishes. She cooked the dinner for them since Ginny was away on some training trip with her Quidditch team.

Hermione thought it will be a perfect occasion to catch up (Harry was abroad for the last two months), and casually mention her plans of proposing an amendment which would abolish house elves' slavery for good. Hermione thought, that since Harry seemed to be rather taken with Blaise Zabini he will not mind if she was to work with him. ("He was quite good in duelling, you know… for a _Slytherin_ , I mean… Turns out he can drink half a bottle of _raki rrushi_ without throwing up, which is considered an achievement by the locals. I guess that's why we never had any problems with bogins. Finch-Fletchley found one in his closet, poor bloke couldn't sleep for a week…"). She was wrong.

"You worked with him, Harry, and as you said it yourself 'he's good at his job'. Plus, since he was tolerable enough for you –"

"Yes, he was," said Harry unexpectedly, nodding his head "Because he was watched by Moody the entire fucking time."

He took a sip of water and then put the glass in a sink. "Do I really need to say that Hermione? For Gods' sake…You are a Muggle-born and they keep on being _murdered_ … No one knows by whom. You are in constant danger and volunteering to work with a Slytherin who was Malfoy's best friend is not the best idea. " He looked both irritated and concerned, and somehow Hermione could not be angry with him. Her best friend Harry - always on a mission, always trying to save everyone.

"They don't talk with each other and you know it Harry. Bloody hell, thanks to Skeeter everyone knows it. He's never called me… _that_. Being Slytherin and Malfoy's ex-best friend doesn't make him a criminal."

"Yeah, well it doesn't make him innocent either." He looked at her pointedly. "I know you're gonna do what you want anyway, but just listen to me and don't trust him. At least not entirely."

Hermione closed her eyes, and then said "If I promise to be cautious and tell you about anything suspicious…"

"I will be mildly happy, but I'll stop arguing. I really understand that it's a big chance for you Hermione. I know that house elves' rights are… You know… Your _thing_. And that this might be the first and last chance to fulfil your dreams. I really get that, and I am not trying to ruin that for you, okay? You know that I would go with you to the Minister, and sign any papers you may need, if I was able to." He spoke sincerely, and Hermione was touched by his support for the cause, despite his opinion on Zabini.

"I _know_ Harry. Honestly if there was anyone else, I wouldn't pick Zabini for this. But you are going to be somewhere in Albania, Cedric is on the leave, and Ron transferred to another department, so it's not like I can ask him to do that." Hermione caught his hand in hers and squeezed it. "It's a small trip to another ministry department. There will be other people around, and I promise to have my wand handy all the time. If he tries anything you will be the first person to know, okay?" He gave her a small smile and a firm nod, then kissed her on the hand and grab his jacket.

"Can I use your floo?"

"Of course, and please make sure to tell Ginny to visit me someday. I haven't seen her for ages and with the Ministry Ball coming up I am in desperate need of help with shopping. If she plans to leave me with Lavender _again_ , you may tell her that she can't call herself my friend ever again."

"I think doing anything with Lavender must be awful, she's a terrible company. How her parents can stand her is a mystery to me," said Harry. Hermione suddenly became serious.

"Don't say that Harry. She may not be my best friend, but she stood up for me in school when Malfoy's gang tried to make me suicidal. Her friendship means a lot to me."

"I am sorry, but you've got to admit she can be a nuisance. I mean, even Ron says he can't stand her for a longer period of time and he _dated_ her."

Hermione smiled, "She is a bit _eccentric_ I guess…"

"A bit? Are we talking about the same person here, Hermione? All right, I am not saying anything." He gave her a quick hug, and stepped into the fireplace. "Be careful Hermione."

"I will." She waved him goodbye when he disappeared in green flames.

Hermione was tired. She was tired of her blood status blowing up in her face every now and then, she was tired of constantly having to prove herself, and she was tired of the paranoia that spread over the wizarding world like wildfire. Of course she felt frightened by the Muggle-born purges that were happening in Britain for several months now. It was terrifying to feel Death's breath on her neck each time she read about new victims in that parody of a journalism that Daily Prophet was. She wanted a break from this madness, a break from chronical insomnia and panic attacks that were resurfacing every time she was in elevators or small rooms. Harry constantly reminding her of how she is practically dead certainly did not help. Actually, the only person who has never mentioned this topic in front of her was Lavender. Probably because she was too self-involved to really see what was happening, and too silly to even think of some murderer as a potential threat. She thought that death was something that happens to other people, and her involvement was limited to choosing an appropriate robe for the funeral.

However, underneath all that shallowness and naivety that Lavender carried around like a shield and sword to fight all her life problems with, there was a genuine goodness that shined through from time to time, making Hermione proud to call herself Lavender's friend. She will never forget how Lavender took care of Ginny when she, Harry, and Ron skipped last year of school. If it wasn't for her, Ginny would probably lay in St. Mungo's for weeks. With her skinny silhouette and looks of an angel it was easy to forget how skilled Lavender was with her wand.

Hermione would have never guessed that she will be friends with her, especially after she basically snatched Ron away from her in their fourth year at Hogwarts. They broke up soon enough, but Hermione vowed to never speak to her anyway.

They made up few years later during post-graduation party which was thrown by Dean Thomas. The girls were forced to cooperate when they got lost after appariting on the outskirts of muggle London. Dean being in a permanent state of intoxication since the previous evening when he celebrated coming of age with his family, forgot to take the wards down and in consequence landed everyone few streets away from his home. Neither of them knew his address, so they spent three hours wandering the streets in search for anyone who could help them find a way. In the end it was Flannigan's pyrotechnic experiments that showed the way – he set Mrs. Thomas' rose bushes on fire and caused panic among muggles living in a neighbourhood.

They haven't spoken about Ron, but they reached some silent understanding about pretending to be oblivated of Ron's involvement with Lavender and begun to talk to each other again, like the whole thing has never taken place.

Lavender however, remained Lavender and as such she has never made it into Hermione's inner circle of friends. They met often enough due to being from the same house. Additionally, Lavender was involved with Andrew Goldstein who was Hermione's partner in Herbology during both her fifth and sixth year. And so, few years after graduation, Lavender Brown sneaked into Hermione's life.

Hermione went to her desk and started to look through the papers she was supposed to present to the head of Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures tomorrow morning. There was a unique opportunity to end house elves slavery for good – possibility of adding an amendment to the Hogsmeade Ordinance. Thanks to Luna, she already had a report on house elves' living conditions, but she still needed the opinion of an Auror as it would determine if freeing house elves will not prove to be dangerous to muggles, or witches and wizards.

Zabini was an Auror with all possible permissions and certificates, and so Hermione asked him to back up her proposal. All he had to do was go to head of the department with her, testify, and give his signature. Then someone from said department would present it to the Minister, who will present the amendment to the Wizengamot, and if they were lucky house elves should be free before noon.

Hermione still could not believe that it was happening. After all those years she was finally able to keep the promise she made to dying Dobby. She had to make sure that the documentation was complete, and therefore was checking the page count for the fourth time this evening.

Cold sweat running down her spine made her shiver, and Hermione knew that her nerves will not let her sleep today. She should expect her insomnia to kick in, and buy crossword book, or at least take that pile of paperwork from her office. Sighing, she left the papers on her desk and went to the kitchen to grab dust wipes. She could always clean her flat, and since it looked like she won't be having any sleep tonight, she might as well do it the muggle way.

It was 7 in the morning when a floo call woke her up.

"Granger? Granger, are you there?" Blaise's low voice almost made her jump. "Zabini? Did I sleep over?" Her panicked voice was few tone higher than usual as a sense of panic washed over her.

"No, but you need to get to the Ministry right now. And don't worry about the house elves, we have a situation here and Minister postponed all of his appointments until Monday."

"What? What happened?" she said, trying to remove cat hair from her sweater.

"Listen Granger, I cannot tell you anything over the floo, but you need to be in the Ministry in ten minutes, or else we're both fucked. Like, _royally fucked_. Ten minutes. Can you make it?"

Hermione looked over her crumpled clothes and rubbed her eyes. "Fifteen minutes and you owe me an explanation Zabini."

"Oh, I could kiss you Granger! Floo directly to my office, trust me you don't want to be in the main hall right now."

As soon as the call ended, Hermione run to her bathroom. Not paying much attention to clothes was one thing, but showing up in her workplace with clothes she wore the day before, and which she then used to clean her entire flat was another thing entirely.

She summoned the pile of clothes she prepared to wear yesterday, only to discover that her skirt had a whole along the seam. She cursed, and went back to her bedroom to find something to wear. As she quickly realised, the only piece of clothing that didn't require permanent-pressing charm was the grey winter dress that Lavender forced her to buy on their last visit to Madame Malkin's. She still had some time but her hair will require at least five minutes to wash, dry and coax in a way that won't make her look like a wildling. It took three cleaning charms and four minutes to clean her body, as there was no time for a shower, and another two to brush her teeth while she was dressing up. Having only few more minutes, she hurriedly washed and dried her hair with a single charm. She picked up her bag and floo Zabini's office.

'"What on Earth has happened to you?" asked Zabini with a tone that clearly indicated worry mixed with fear.

"I fell asleep around four and slept on the couch, hence the dark circles underneath my eyes and –"

"- I'm not talking about your face Granger. It's actually the only thing that looks almost presentable. That dress, those _shoes_ … Have you seen a mirror today? You look ridiculous.'

Hermione felt the urge to punch Blaise in the face as she once did Draco Malfoy, but she was not thirteen anymore and so she settled for a death glare. 'Well you don't look much better than me, I am sure.'

Zabini took three steps toward her and pointed at her head 'That is a mane worthy of the king of the jungle.' He pointed at the left sleeve of her dress 'And that is a toothpaste. I am not even mentioning the fact that this dress looks like something Romilda Vane would wear -'

"- You just did. Look, I am no supermodel. I get it, I _really_ do. But it was you who told me to get here at this hour and I slept for three hours today, haven't eaten anything and I am not in the mood to hear a lecture about the length of my dress, so if you could tell me why exactly am I here and just ignore my looks I'd be more than grateful." Hermione tried to put all of the anger she had into the stare that she sent Zabini and apparently it worked. At least in part, as he stepped back and folded his hands on his chest.

"It's not about my personal tastes Granger. Moody wants to see us, and I needed you to be here as soon as possible, because I told him that you already were at the ministry when he asked." He sighed resignedly.

"Just put your robes on to cover that thing, do something about your hair and for God's sake tell Lavender to piss off next time she wants to buy you clothes."

"Why on earth did you tell Moody that I was already here, and how do you know it was Lavender's idea to buy that dress?" asked Hermione, as she was putting her black robes on, tying them tightly to ensure the dress won't be showing.

"I explain on the way to his office. I said we'll be there half past seven, so we should start walking," said Zabini, and opened the doors for her.

"And who else has a taste so poor, and the personality so engulfing that you chose to capitulate and buy a dress that I am sure you wouldn't normally even look at?"

"She said it's perfect for the Bell's luncheon. I didn't go in the end, and it hung in my closet for two years now. You gave me ten minutes and I just grabbed a first hanger," said Hermione, as if to explain herself which was absurd as Zabini was not a person with whom she would ever discuss her fashion choices. She opted to change the subject "So what is it that Moody wants me for?"

"I can't say for sure but I would guess it has something to do with what happened at the Unspeakable floor," he said, as they rushed through the corridor.

"And what happened at Unspeakable floor?" asked Hermione, feeling slightly confused. She had absolutely nothing to do with Unspeakables. She wasn't even sure which floor belonged to their department.

"That's where things get interesting. Finnigan's mother run from there as if her life depended on it, screaming something about blood, and passed out in the middle of a hallway. Next thing I know Moody's swearing and shouting something about Fudge's arse. He asked if I knew anyone in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and since I was waiting for you anyway… Then Lucius Malfoy showed up and said that you cannot take the case, because we should not let anyone in to the Ministry as the _crime scene_ has not yet been taped off, that securing entry points is a priority and that Moody apparently has problems with memory if he doesn't know that, and that maybe he should resign… So I said that there is no problem, because you just went to the bathroom and will be back in a minute or two," said Zabini looking very proud of himself.

"I guess every occasion is good to make Lucius Malfoy hate you even more?" asked Hermione with a smile on her face.

"Oh yes. He can't look at me since the day me and Draco… you know, stopped talking. And he is a Head of the Unspeakables' department sooo… Is it really a stretch to assume he may want to hush whatever caused all this commotion up?" asked Blaise with a Slytherin smirk that usually graced face of Draco Malfoy after he came up with new mockery.

"I guess it's possible, although Unspeakables are completely independent from other departments. If an experiment goes wrong they have their own procedures to deal with it. It's the only department that answers directly to Wizengamot, we have no jurisdiction over anything that they do."

"What does that mean?" asked Blaise frowning his brows in confusion.

"It means that if we are involved, then whatever happened had to be either very dangerous for the entire magical population, or completely beyond the responsibilities of their Little Councils meaning- "

"-meaning that shit is about to hit the proverbial fan. Right on time Granger, Zabini." Moody inclined his head and opened the doors to his small office.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Smoke and Mirrors

"As Granger noticed," said Moody closing the door "Department of Magical Law enforcement is expected to take control over the case only if it may potentially harm our population. Or if someone died but _not_ as a result of an experiment." He sat on his chair behind the desk and looked straight into Zabini's eyes. "We may have to deal with both." He opened a bottom drawer of his desk and took out bottle full of dark liquid. He took a big sip from it. "They found a body today. A man, ripped open with his insides hanged on the ceiling. He was laying in the runic circle that was drawn with blood. His own, if you ask me. Now, Fudge being a paranoid old man has never given the permission to experiment with anything that is even loosely connected with dark magic. And as you probably know, blood magic usually doesn't mean rainbow and unicorns, especially if in close proximity to a dead body." Hermione shuddered. She saw her share of dead people during the war with Grindelwald, and wasn't keen on seeing yet another one.

"Murder usually means our department, with Aurors as detectives and prosecutors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement overseeing the investigation. This time it's more complicated." Moody took another sip from the bottle. "See apparently, no one thought that someone might be murdered inside the Ministry, so we have absolutely no procedures for that. Malfoy insists that it happened on the Unspeakable level, and so one of the Little Councils should take the investigation. Old Crouch says, and rightly so, that since someone died it is Wizengamot's concern as it has authority over Unspeakables. As it happens Wizengamot itself can judge but cannot investigate; they need a prosecutor. Thus, bringing us to you." Moody locked his eyes with Hermione. "Since we are not allowed to let anyone inside the Ministry, you're the best candidate. Malfoy argued that with your experience you cannot be trusted to blow your nose properly, and make no mistake – he's right." Moody did not seem to be too happy about the situation, and took yet another sip from the bottle without breaking the eye contact with her. "But thanks to Malfoy's tricks you are the only shot at justice we have. It's good that Zabini had the balls to stall the closure of his fireplace and let you pass." Moody sighed. "As I said Malfoy fought your candidature tooth and nail but we made him agree to it. We offered him something he wasn't able to refuse."

"And what exactly would that be?", asked Zabini.

"A chance to install his spy in a team investigating this murder. Me and old Crouch decided that we'll make a team that will include all interested parties – Wizengamot, Department of Mysteries, and Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Each of them will nominate a person who will represent them." Moody opened another drawer and took out a box packed in a brown paper. "This thing reeks with dark magic. I trust you'll use your… _talents_ Zabini."

"All those compliments and I still think you chose me 'cause I was friends with Draco," replied Zabini with a smile.

"Your knowledge about Malfoys certainly doesn't hurt," replied Moody, and unpacked the box which hid two bronze medals, each engraved with the emblem of the ministry.

"Zabini, you have the most experience with investigative work of this kind, so we're making you the head of this investigation. You report everything to me, and only me. Technicians are already working on the crime scene, so you'll need to be there as soon as they take down perimeter-guarding spells after collecting all the samples. Preferably, before Malfoy's dog starts to piss on the evidence. Old Crouch wants to talk to you Granger, he'll be waiting for you in the Southern Chimney at lunch. Now, I need to have a word with Zabini." He pointed at the door with his head without even looking at her.

"Of course. I'll wait outside," said Hermione. She took a bronze medal from the box and walked out of the room. The door was shut before she could say goodbye.

She looked at the medal and run few spells on it. _Protean charm_ , she thought. So, the medals were not only identifications, but also a means to communication with Zabini. She somehow doubted Malfoy's spy getting one.

Waiting in the corridor for Zabini, she finally had enough time to process what exactly happened. Someone was murdered in the Ministry, supposedly in some dark ritual which by some miracle did not breach the alarm spells. The body was found in the morning by a woman who had absolutely no reason to be there, and Lucius Malfoy was in the centre of events – Harry would have a field day with that one. She wondered if he already knew what happened. She paused for a second. _It did not make any sense…_

"Ready to go? We need to take the stairs, 'cause they shut down the elevators." Zabini started to walk towards the stairwell. He suddenly stopped and sighed.

"Just tell me Granger."

"What?" She asked genuinely surprised.

"Whatever you're thinking right now. And I know that you're not thinking about anything pleasant from the look on your face." Hermione looked at him unimpressed.

"Twelve weeks training on social cues covered facial expressions." Zabini smiled at her. She stopped right beside him.

"I call bullshit Zabini," she finally said with anger in her voice.

"You mean my training? Professor Scott would be devastated to hear that..."

"…no, Zabini, not your training. That murder, me being the only investigator they could reach, and Moody choosing you instead of Harry. I. Call. Bullshit." Hermione started to walk up the stairs.

"Well, thanks for believing in my abilities, but I still don't follow," said Zabini, this time without a hint of a smile. Hermione stopped again and turned to face him.

She briefly considered sharing all her doubts, but decided against it. She had a bad feeling about this whole thing. She needed to talk to Crouch first.

"You trained with Harry for more than a month. He was your partner."

"Yeah. He was. So, what?"

"Why did you tell Malfoy that _I_ was here, not Harry?" she asked.

"I told you. I was already waiting for you, and your surname was the first thing that came to my mind," said Zabini with blank face.

"Oh yes, you did tell me. I am sorry, must have slipped my mind." Hermione send him a smile and tried to look as innocent and confused about the discovery as she could. After all, Zabini was not the only person who attended Mrs Scott's classes.

Something was off. If they had a time to floo call and wait for her, even though all of the fireplaces were being shut, they could definitely call Harry or any other investigator. Summoning Aurors to the crime scenes was a common practice, a normal thing to do after closing the entry points and sending for the technicians – they were sending them an encoded portkey or altering the anti-apparition wards.

Actually, as a person who was supposedly in the building before her official working hours shouldn't she be questioned as a potential suspect?

Murder in the ministry should be investigated by Crouch and Moody themselves, the most experienced specialists. So why was she – a magical creatures' law expert - chosen to investigate this? She wrinkled her nose.

"Don't think too much Granger," murmured Zabini as he passed her on the left.

"Hello, beautiful. The name is Zabini." He smiled at the girl in a navy-blue uniform. To her credit she only slightly blushed, and ticked off a list she held in her hand.

"Good Morning, Mr Zabini. Mrs McKinnon is waiting for you there, at the pillar." She inclined her head in direction of an elderly woman dressed in a modest black robe.

"Thank you, my angel," Zabini smiled again and started working toward her, Hermione behind him.

"So what do we have here?" Zabini clapped his hands. Mrs. McKinnon sent him a calculated look. She was an older woman, who reminded Hermione of Professor McGonagall.

"Murder, obviously. The exact cause of death is not yet certain. We spent the last hour taking pictures of the whole scene, determining common approach path and taking the samples. You can walk with me to the body and I'll see what I can tell you."

"So, you haven't seen the body but insist on calling it a murder?" asked a squeaky voice from behind Hermione.

"Well, Ms Bulstrode if you can prove he took out all of his inside organs and hanged them from the ceiling while painting pentagrams on the floor with his own blood, I'll be happy to call it suicide. Or accident. Whatever you want, really." She started to walk towards the body.

Hermione took a deep breath. She remembered Millicent from school. Nasty girl, one of Pansy Parkinson's best friends. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"The only thing you cannot touch without destroying the evidence is the body - we laid down the preservation spells so you can enjoy the crime scene in all of its beauty." Mrs. McKinnon walked straight through the enormous pentagram painted on the floor. Zabini and Bulstrode walked right behind them but Hermione wanted to look at the whole scene first.

In the hall, which was in its entirety made from white marble, stood four monuments. Each represented one attribute of an ideal wizard: two wizards which guarded the entrance from the stairwell symbolised open mind and open eyes. Both were dressed in elegant robes, one with an open book in his hand, the other with an owl on his shoulder and a third eye on his forehead. They held their wands in the air creating an arch over the people coming in. Two witches were doing the same on the opposite side, in front of the elevators. The symbolised open arms - a witch with seven children at her side, and open heart - a maiden with roses in her hair and a key in the left hand. The monuments were the only relic of the first Ministry building.

Their paleness was contrasted with the vivid colour of the blood which panned out in neat loops of someone's handwriting covering the walls, and the runes forming a pentagram drawn around the body at the centre of the hall. Web of strings stretched between the monuments, just underneath the ceiling, with human insides hanging on them like lights on Christmas tree. The entire scene was reflected in the mirror ceiling.

Some said there was a fifth pillar in the centre of the hall representing magic itself, but the muggleborn witch responsible for the monuments' movement destroyed it as it was depicting a man with muggles underneath his feet. Even though Hermione was quite sure the gossips of that kind had to be spread by the same moron who made up the 'sacred twenty-eight', the fact that the victim was positioned in its supposed place gave her goose pimples.

The scene in front of her was theatrical and twisted. It looked so out of place, so grotesque, that Hermione could barely believe it _existed_. It belonged to the world of nightmares and murderous fantasies, not the real world.

It was disturbingly clean and organised, now that she thought about it. Not much blood - only the writings on the walls, and the pentagram surrounding the body. No blood dripping from the Victim's bowels, no signs of struggle… nothing. She wondered if they will find any evidence; if the murderer put so much effort in making the scene clean, and managed to do it so well, he probably was not stupid enough to leave behind something that could lead to his identification.

 _The stairs, elevator, and the fireplace in Malfoy's office – three points of entry for the victim and the killer, or killers. Luckily no windows._ She sighed. They would need to check the floo network and establish who was using it few hours before and after the murder. The fireplaces in the main hall should be easy enough to check, but Malfoy would kill anyone who even dared to look at his office's door.

She looked at the pentagram and the symbols surrounding the body on the floor. She could vaguely remember some of the blood magic runes, but she was no expert. After the war, she preferred to stay away from anything related to dark magic.

The writings on the wall were in Latin. 'He is the fifth pillar', repeated countless times on each wall.

"Granger, would you fucking mind?", Bulstrode called out to her. Hermione hoped that her language improved since school but apparently, she was mistaken.

Millicent was not exactly welcomed in the pure-blood circles due to her family's situation. Hermione remembered how she was using vulgar language, and what could be only described as boorishness back in Hogwarts only to impress Pansy. Parkinson never really accepted her, but it did not stop her from using Millicent's sharp tongue to torment others. There was a time when Hermione felt sorry for her, but her empathy dissipated the second Bulstrode landed her in the infirmary with cat fur covering her entire body.

So instead of walking to them in a hurry and with apologies, Hermione made a point of looking at the writings on the wall again. The handwriting seemed weirdly familiar. Where did she see it? She furrowed her brows.

She slowly walked over to the body and stopped immediately when she saw the victims' face. There, on his back with his torso split open laid Justin Finch-Fletchley.

"He was dead when someone cut him open, if that's any consolation," said Mrs. McKinnon quietly. "It looks like he was stunned, before the blood was collected for the writings. An awful way to go but as far as I can tell, painless. Simple Avada curse, this mess was done later." Hermione supposed she must have looked quite horrified, if Mrs McKinnon of all people felt the need to console her.

She saw dead people before, but they were always strangers. It somehow felt different, more personal, more frightening. After Meadows' death, there was only the two of them; only two muggleborns in the department, and now she was all _alone_.

Mrs McKinnon cleared her throat. "I'll run a few diagnostic spells on the body, and what we managed to salvage from his internal organs. Then we'll know the exact time of death." She gestured to two wizards who used a portkey to move the body to the morgue.

"I cannot tell you much before I conduct the autopsy. This case definitely has the priority, so I'll do my best to deliver the results as quickly as I can. You're in luck I have some students for practical classes tomorrow so it shouldn't take too long. Good day to you, and good luck." Mrs. McKinnon took her bag and left. Hermione was now left with Zabini, as Bulstrode left to take more pictures of the writings on the other side of the room.

"We are fucked, aren't we?" asked Zabini. He had both hands in his pockets and was looking in Bulstrode's direction.

"I guess. I didn't know she was working in the Ministry, in the Mysteries no less," answered Hermione. Millicent was still taking pictures, cursing her camera.

"I bet it was her family's doing. No way she would have passed entry exams. And it's quite obvious she never worked in the investigation. I thought Malfoy's gonna give us one of those guys from Little Councils. You know, someone with at least an ounce of experience." Zabini shook his head. "Does she even know, they already took the pictures, and that we can always come back to the scene using the pensive and the memory supplied by the technicians?" Bulstrode was now hitting her camera with an open hand.

"I don't think so. But you heard Moody, she's not here to investigate the murder." Hermione turned to look at the wall behind her. "Does it make any sense to you?"

"Latin? No, I was never particularly good with the languages. What does it say?"

"It's weird. It can be translated as 'He's the fifth pillar'. But I don't think Justin is the 'he'. It's an obvious reference to the lost monument of the wizard. You know, the embodiment of magic, with muggles underneath his feet squashed by his power and enormous ego. I doubt the murderer talks about himself in the third person, so it's probably a tribute to someone more powerful. Which is worrisome." Hermione bit her lower lip.

"Because Justin was a muggleborn, similarly to victims of the recent killings. But the method, execution, and location are much more… Well it's a step up, isn't it? Completely inconsistent with the murderer's profile… Copycat?", asked Zabini.

"And one that is better than the master. If the Ministry was his first choice I don't want to know what is he going to do next. There's possibility that he wants to join his idol in the mission of purifying the wizarding world. Let's pray he's the only one with such ideas, and make sure that none of it is leaked to the press. With the current political climate… We can end up with skyrocketing hate crimes."

"Shit.", mumbled Zabini.

"And what's up with the dark magic? I think I've read somewhere that in magic of this kind it's required to make a sacrifice of some sort. I mean, blood magic and sacrificial killings are part of many power harvest rituals, right? So, you would need to sacrifice the body of an animal, or a person. The fusion of the blood magic and the spells casted usually burns the remaining body to a crisp, but Justin wasn't burned. Mutilated, yes. Killed, yes. But he wasn't sacrificed. So, what the hell with all those runes, pentagrams, and insides flying around?!" She whispered to Zabini with a speed that surprised even her. Blaise smiled, and put his hands in his pockets.

"I think I'll like you even more Granger. We seem to think about the same thing." Hermione raised her brow. "Do we, Mr. Zabini?" she asked intrigued.

"Oh yes. I am an expert on dark magic, right? I mean, not exactly but I've seen stuff, yeah?" Hermione nodded. "This is not dark magic at all. Look, see those runes over there?" He gestured at the symbols just behind the perimeter of a circle surrounding the pentagram. "Those are old Norwegian runes. The pentagram is pagan. Those characters around where the body used to be? Fucking Chinese!" Zabini's excitement was evident, as he looked at her like he was expecting her to react in some way. "And that would mean…? What exactly?" she asked, uncertain.

"Those symbols do not go together. I mean you either go with the pagan, Chinese, or Norwegian rituals. Mixing them together? A big no-no. It's like with the spells – always in one language. You don't use 'petrificus totally' for a reason. Mixing languages, even those really similar… Enough to say that anyone who tried to do that in the past was never seen again."

"So it's not dark magic? There was no ritual?" she asked. "That's why the wards did not go off?" Hermione whispered to him. "It's a sham…?! But why?"

"To stall us. Think about it. If it was anyone else investigating this, they would have to wait for the opinion of an expert to tell them this. They would have followed the dark magic lead for weeks before someone would realise what we just did."

"Oh Christ. I hope it was only to make his escape quicker…" She preferred not to think about other possibilities.

"What are you whispering about?" asked Bulstrode. Hermione almost screamed; she did not realise how close the girl was. Millicent must have circled the whole room during her conversation with Zabini.

"Just that we'll take lunch before the interviews with witnesses. We all deserve a break after seeing it. Tho, I wouldn't eat too much if I were you. You may not realise that now, but the food has the habit of going up after witnessing these sorts of scenes.", said Zabini with a bored expression.

"I'll see you after lunch, then," said Bulstrode, and she walked in the direction of the doors leading to the department of Mysteries.

"It's better if we keep her in the dark, at least for now. Make her think we're following the dark magic lead. I am not sure if we want Malfoy to know what we discovered."

"You're probably right. If he's somehow connected to all this… It would be better for him to not know anything just yet," responded Hermione.

"What are you doing for lunch? I thought we might use some off-Bulstrode time to discuss the possible proceedings." They started to walk toward the staircase.

"I am sorry, but I need to talk to Senior." She smiled apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow we could eat breakfast together? This way we could discuss things without Bulstrode, before the briefing."

"Crouch Senior? Good luck with that." He laughed. "Yeah, breakfast works for me too. I have a dinner with my mother today, so tomorrow sounds perfect. Let's meet at my flat, not the Ministry. I'd feel better knowing Bulstrode cannot just barge in whenever she feels like it."

"Your flat it is. I'll floo to yours around seven. This way we should have enough time to work out some plan of action. I really need to go now; you know how _he_ is." She waved to him on her way to reception. She needed a pass to leave the building, since the Ministry was on a lockdown.

#

Southern Chimney was one of those restaurants Hermione was avoiding – posh and expensive. The inside was full with antique furniture made of pink ivory; golden candles were flying around, lightening the room. In the middle, stood a cherry tree with three exotic birds singing their hearts out. The air smelled of cinnamon and cloves.

Crouch Sr. was sitting at his favourite table reading a newspaper. He sat with his back towards the wall, and flower arrangements on both sides. From this location he could perfectly see everyone entering the restaurant, while being almost invisible to most of restaurants' guests.

Hermione sat on his right; she did not feel comfortable with her back towards the entrance. She took the menu from the waiter who appeared next to her and asked for a first risotto she saw on the list, and a glass of water. Crouch Sr. did not move until the waiter came back with her order.

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Granger. I trust your parents are in good health?" he asked with a half-smile putting down the newspaper.

"I am glad to be of assistance, Mr Crouch. And yes, they are in good health." Hermione smiled, and then added "Thank you." She never learned how to talk to him. He was always formal, kind, and politically correct but also very distant. He also knew everything that was going on in his department, often before anyone else. People who tried to hide things from him, or thought themselves to be smarter than him always ended up being fired. He loved the law, and was always two steps ahead of the criminals he dealt with during his time as a prosecutor. Now one of the key players in Wizengamot, he was Hermione's personal hero.

Crouch Sr. nodded his head. "That's good to hear. A person can live without many things but health is not one of them." He drunk some of his tea.

"Maybe you would like to tell me about the ongoing investigation?" he asked as if he was asking about the weather, not murder of a Ministry's official. He started to eat his piece of a carrot cake, but Hermine knew she had his full attention.

"I am to work with Mr Zabini and Miss Bulstrode. We have seen the crime scene, but are yet to question the witnesses. The victim is Justin Finch-Fletchley, he worked in my department…"

"... Oh yes. That is a terrible loss. Justin was such a promising young man. Unusual eye for detail. It was the reason I chose him to oversee the investigation concerning murders of muggleborns. It was his third day, you know. After Davies' suicide, he took all the files to his office and locked himself inside for ten hours. Then he visited all the previous crime scenes and all the witnesses. And yesterday, just before I left the Ministry I got this strange letter from him. He asked for access to the archives. I gave him the permit on my way to the main hall and he practically run there… I didn't even think about asking him why was that so urgent.", Crouch Sr., sighed and took a sip of his camomile tea. "And then I was woken up by the news of his death.", he put his cup down with a clink, "He found something I don't know what, but he did."

"Something about the murderer?", asked Hermione surprised.

"He was murdered few hours later… It is an interesting possibility, is it not?" Crouch Sr. lift his head and looked straight into her eyes. "This is why I insisted that you'd be on the investigation. The two of you were close; you know his methods. If he left any hint, any clue at all… I sincerely believe you're the only one who can find it."

"Zabini…"

"… told you that it was his idea to floo you? Good. That's exactly what was asked of him. We're the only ones who know that Justin was in the archives, that he discovered something. And I would prefer if it stayed that way.", he gestured to the waiter.

"Does that mean I shouldn't trust Zabini with this information? He and Moody…"

"… You are to trust _no one_ Miss Granger. Least of all Moody and Zabini. This investigation is linked to the serial killer on the loose and possibly some individuals in the Ministry. It's a precedent. It is not just a murder case, it's _politics_. We cannot afford any mistakes. I want you to closely watch both Bulstrode and Zabini. Any illegal proceedings, mistakes, or sabotage are to be reported directly to me."

"I want to know exactly what are they doing every minute of every day. What do they eat, how long do they sleep, and with whom are they sleeping… everything. And if that particular order shocks you Miss Granger… Make no mistake, they were given the exact same instructions by their supervisors." Crouch Sr. paid the waiter who quietly approached them from the left and stood up. "I suggest we make those lunches a regular arrangement. Please, pass on my best wishes to your dear parents."

Hermione exited the restaurant and as the cold air hit her face making her lips dry and her cheeks red, she realised with surprise and alarm that she was being deceived.

* * *

I am back for good, and do my best to update regularly from now on. My goal is to publish new chapter each week, but the realistic part of my brain tells me that we should make it a fortnight and see how it goes ;) My beta has a break from my writing, so I apologise for the mistakes I've made and haven't noticed. Hopefully, I can fix them in the next few days, if there is such need.

Big thanks to all of those who decided to follow my story, and those of you who took your time to write reviews. I really appreciate it. I honestly did not expect such quick and warm reaction to a story with equally unpopular pairing. :)

In response to review left by Miaaa (thank you!) and to avoid confusion that may arise from the way I worded the summary:

In my story Hermione is seven years younger than Tom/Voldemort. Which means that started her education at Hogwarts, after he left the school. Therefore, although she probably heard about him (unusually talented Head Boy, and the boy who found the person responsible for Myrtle's death) she does not know him personally. I hope that clears that up. The timeline of events will differ from the canon (obviously) and will hopefully become easier to follow with the future chapters.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 3

She couldn't sleep. Instead she was flooded with not so pleasant memories of events people have long forgotten. Each time she closed her eyes she saw _the tent_. A lonely tent in the middle of the forest. Rain. Mist. Ron's bloody t-shirt in the mud. The anger in Harry's eyes and the infinite sadness in hers.

She should be thinking about poor Justin. About the Malfoys, about Seamus' mum in St Mungo's. About the broken elevator. She managed to force herself to do that for a while but as soon as she stopped consciously influence her thoughts letting them wander, the image of the tent popped up again.

Hermione got up. She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea.

She looked, pensive, at the pictures of her parents displayed on the wall. She thought about that year when Harry managed to convince them that the prophecy was true. They thought they were so _brave_. She shook her head and sighed.

She knew why she couldn't get the image of that damned tent out of her head. Her suspicious subconscious kicked in. There were so many important people connected to Justin's case already... if the minister was involved as well... Was this entire situation a ploy to get rid of her, of Harry? The kettle whistled, and she absentmindedly prepared her peppermint tea. She needed to be careful. Very careful. And she should make sure Harry is on his guard as well, but she couldn't share her suspicions with him. He was so impulsive sometimes. No, this required extreme caution. She will deal with this herself.

'You're early'. 'Couldn't sleep, figured you probably didn't have much luck either.' Hermione step through the doors to Zabini's flat. 'I didn't but showing up here at five in the morning is not exactly...polite', said Zabini but he gestured for her to sit in his living room. If Hermione was expecting a Slytherin aesthetic to dominate his flat, she was mistaken. The interior was cosy, homey even. Eggshell walls, simple but comfortable furniture with plenty of colourful decorative pillows thrown on top of them. There was a comforter on the sofa, and Hermione thought it was weird that Zabini slept on a couch.

She sat on an armchair close to the fireplace. 'So why couldn't you sleep?', asked Zabini. 'Justin. We knew each other. I guess it shocked me more than I cared to admit. You?', asked Hermione in turn.

'I was going through the evidence we gathered. Speaking of which, care to explain why you never bothered to show up after your lunch break? I had to pull some serious shit, so they don't throw you of the case, you know.' Zabini sat at the sofa pulling the blanket over his legs. ' I get cold easily', he said when she lifted her eyebrows.

'I had some errands to run. And you don't have to cover for me'.

'Oh yes, I have to! I have to cover for you, otherwise I am an incompetent fool. I know this situation is new to you but I am your boss, Hermione. You can't just vanish because you had _errands_ to run. The hell does that even mean, huh?', he asked with disbelief in his voice.

Hermione broke the eye contact, and started looking at her hands instead. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but she was sure he needed some version of truth if _he_ was going to trust _her_.

'I visited Justin's parents. I thought it would be better if they heard about what happened from me. I would've spared them some details… Anyway, someone beat me to it. I had to stay to make sure Justin's mom doesn't have a mental breakdown. I had to give her some Calming Draught, make sure the father won't kill the next wizard stepping through their door. We still needed a testimony.', she looked at the empty fireplace. 'Did you know that if you're a muggle and your child dies, the Aurors can remove every memory of him or her that you have because of the Statute of Secrecy? It's not even frowned upon.'

Hermione was looking into Zabini's eyes now. 'So yeah, I had errands to run.'

'You should have told me.', he replied softly. 'Next time, have some trust in me. We're on the same team here, Hermione'. Were they, _really_?

'You didn't miss much to be honest. Maeve Finnigan was taken to St Mungo's. We cannot ask her any questions, until we get a permission from the healers. Everyone who was at the ministry at the time were interrogated and all of their statements can be summarised as "I didn't see anything". With the exception of Moody who told us how he summoned the investigative team together, and the time of closure of the fireplaces.' Zabini was looking through the files which he picked up from the small table in front of him. 'Malfoy was just arriving at work when Mrs Finnigan started running downstairs, and he did not follow Moody upstairs, as he was busy casting Renervate on our poor, recently fainted witness. Blah, blah, blah… He sent the Patronus to the minister to ask for the immediate closure of the building… I have a copy for you to read, but there's nothing interesting in there.' Zabini rubbed his left eye. 'Do you want anything to drink? I should've asked when you came in. I apologize, I am a terrible host…'

'…It's fine, I had a cuppa before I came in.', answered Hermione. When Zabini went to get some water for himself, she got up and started to pace around the room. She always did that when deeply in thought. She finally stopped, and started to look through the files on Zabini's table. She scanned the testimonies of Lucius Malfoy, and Moody searching for any mention of Crouch Sr surname, and she found it in the last paragraph of Malfoy's statement "Mr. Crouch proposed the formation of an investigative group…". She started to look at the page in front of her, but Malfoy have not mentioned Crouch until that passage in which he briefly explained how they reached an agreement on the creation of their little detective team. She read Moody's statement again. He mentioned Crouch sending letters to alert the other members of Wizengamot to a special session which was to be held at Hogwarts. She flipped the pages of other testimonies, some guy from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and an older lady from International Magical Cooperation. Where is _he_?

'Found anything interesting?', asked Zabini. He was leaning on the kitchen doorframe. 'I didn't actually. Which is a shame since I was hoping to see your statement.'

'My statement?'. He looked confused.

'Yes. I mean you were there from the beginning. You told me what you saw when I arrived at the ministry yesterday but I was hoping for some more detail.' She was proud of her relaxed stance when she said it.

'Right. I did not write a statement but I did turn in the report. Only I have already given it to Moody. But ask me anything, I'll be glad to answer.'

Hermione looked at him and wondered how was it possible that he stayed alert without getting any sleep. There was no way he managed to interrogate all of the witnesses, speak to the technicians, and write an obligatory report which in his case should be at least ten pages long.

'Well you told me that you lied about me being in the building already but Moody already knew I entered through your fireplace much later, when we walked into his office. You summoned me few minutes before seven, but the technicians where already finished with their work, and Malfoy was not to be seen anywhere.' She pretended to read the file she had in her hand.

'I had a chance to talk to Moody while I was waiting for you. You weren't exactly quick, you know. We did not summon you straight away… It was chaos… I mean we needed to alert the technicians, the minister, the Wizengamot. By the time we got to talk about who would be involved in the case it was already past six. I ran off to get you when I had the chance.' He walked to the table and set down his now empty glass. Hermione was suddenly aware how much taller he was than her.

'Makes sense. Sorry for being a pest, it's just that I wasn't sure about the timeline of it all. You said you talked about the case with Moody and Malfoy?' Hermione made sure to not sound intimidated. 'I mean when you were deciding who should investigate?', she added after a while.

'Well it was mostly them talking. I am not important enough to make those kinds of decisions, you know. Malfoy was doing that passive-aggressive thing he's so good at. He might have implied something about Moody's lack of sanity. And you know how he is. I said you were already here, and that seemed to do the trick. Moody told me to find you.' He sat down on the sofa.

'Right'. _Right._

'I guess I'll go back home to take a shower and make enough coffee to get me through the day. I am basically falling asleep as I speak'. She forced a soft chuckle at the end of the sentence, but Zabini did not seem to be interested in the appearance of a pleasant conversation. He just got up and ignited the fire in his fireplace with a quick nonverbal spell.

'There's a floo powder in that container, there. Try to get some sleep if you can. Everyone had a long day yesterday and since I need everyone at their best we don't start until nine'.

She nodded her head in the quiet farewell and flooed back home.

She changed into her pyjamas and found some dreamless sleeping potion in the box with few things Ron has left behind with her for safekeeping when he was moving to his new flat. According to her calculations the potion should knock her out for exactly three hours. It was better than nothing.

Hermione woke up few minutes past eight. She was surprised by how rested she felt but quickly realised it was probably the side effect of the sleeping potion which would wear off sooner rather than later. She needed caffeine, and she needed it fast.

She brushed her teeth while taking the shower, and was now staring at the mirror above the washbasin. Steam covered it all, and just when she was about to wipe it an idea formed in her head. She drew a line across the mirror. A timeline. Malfoy, Moody, Zabini, Mrs Finnigan, those two other witnesses whose names she could not recall. She splashed cold water in her face. She needed to wake the hell up. She looked at the mirror again. Everyone's initials were next to the time of their arrival. Everyone's except for Crouch Sr.

She couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a mistake. But then again, shouldn't Zabini spot it when he looked through the reports in the morning? On the other hand they were tired, shocked… What if it was intentional? Should she pretend not to notice as well?

Hermione put on her brown skirt, matching blazer and a pair of Oxfords that she bought from the muggle shop years ago, claiming they were for her boyfriend. It's not like you could see them from underneath her robes, anyway. She looked at the time and figured she had exactly ten minutes to drink her coffee. She planned on getting to work earlier than everyone else, and see the timeline they established yesterday. If Crouch Sr's surname wasn't on that board, she would know for sure his arrival at the scene was… Well, what exactly was it? Troublesome? Weird? _Illegal_?

She desperately hoped her sobby story about Justin's parents was enough for Zabini to think she would be perfect to go through his papers, and personal belongings. She needed to figure out just what he was getting from the archive, and returning some of his paperwork was a perfect cover to do it without gaining any attention from the others. She was now at the Ministry, putting her collection of pens into an old mug. She was not in Hogwarts anymore, no one could force her to use a quill.

'Hermione?'. _Lavender._

'What are you doing here? This floor is supposed to be closed off!' Hermione quickly exited through the door, grabbing Lavender by the hand. She pushed her through the first door on the right and followed her inside into what turned out to be a toilet.

'Well?', Hermione asked praying to all gods she knew that no one saw Lavender coming in. 'How did you get here?'. She folded her arms demanding the answer. 'You know what? Don't tell me. I don't want to know. If anyone asks I didn't even see you today. Go home, Lavender.' She added, just when her friend opened her mouth to respond.

Lavender's cheeks became slightly pink. She looked down for a few seconds and when she looked up again, she seemed angry.

'I came to see Justin actually. He was supposed to come for dinner yesterday. Me and Anthony were waiting for hours…. And it's not like Justin to miss an appointment. So we went to his flat, which was empty. I called Justin's mother but she had no idea where he was either. I made a _fool_ out of myself banging on Susan's door in the middle of the night, and had to hear her father's lecture on propriety…'. Lavender paused for a few seconds.

'Then we figured he might have been held back at work, laughed at how stupid we were to make such a _commotion._ '. She was now taking a handkerchief from the pocket of her elegant, green robe. 'I thought I'll come by and give him an earful. Make him feel bad, for standing us up like that. Tell him how we looked for him, and about Mr Bones scolding me for a very unladylike behaviour… He would laugh, I would pretend to be offended but only for a while and…'. Hermione felt a wave of guilt travelling through her body and almost making her shiver.

'I wasn't sure where was his new office, so I asked about him at the reception. I think they must have thought I was a witness or something. This lady asked, if I was a friend and started to give me condolences, and I was just _confused_ … And then I saw the Daily Prophet on her desk.' Lavender was crying now. 'This gentleman showed me to your office, said he saw you coming in. I was in such shock, he might have taken me anywhere and I wouldn't even notice… What happened, Hermione?'. Lavender was looking at her with such desperation, that Hermione wasn't sure if she would be able to speak at all.

'I am so sorry, Lavender. I am so, so, sorry.' She put her hand on her friends' arm. 'I can't tell you anything, we're not even sure… It wasn't even supposed to be in the papers today.', Hermione drew a breath. 'And you really shouldn't be here. They'll probably want to question you at some point. Listen, just go home and... I'll come by later tonight with more information, all right?'. Lavender pocketed her handkerchief and exhaled slowly to regain composure. She nodded few times, not looking at Hermione and moved towards the door.

'Do you want me to find someone to escort you to the main hall?'

'I'll be alright, Hermione. Just… How am I supposed to tell Anthony, that his best friend is dead?'.

'I am not a violent man, but I swear one of these days I am going to go to Daily prophet's headquarters and just…blow it up'. Zabini was looking at the front page of the newspaper, sitting in a chair behind his desk. 'Who is this Skeeter, and where on Earth did she get those pictures from?'.

'Not sure, but that article just made her the most famous journalist on this planet. And she needed to get them from someone at the Ministry. At least they had the decency not to show anything gruesome.' Hermione, was sitting opposite of him in a chair that seemed to wobble each time she so much as took a breath.

'Malfoy.', said Zabini as if it was an insult.

'What about him?', asked Hermione confused.

'He's the owner of the newspaper. No way they didn't run this story past him before publishing. Which begs the question, why did he allowed it?'.

'He's a Malfoy. They're petty. Probably thought you deserved it for being made a head of this investigation.', said Hermione.

Zabini suddenly got up. He flicked his fingers in her general direction.

'You're coming with me.'

Hermione had to almost run, to catch up to him.

'You realise they're not going to just let you into his office, right? This is a very Gryffindor way to handle this, by the way.'

'What can I say, Potter is rubbing off on me. And I am sure punching dear Lucius in the face is going to feel great.' Zabini was now almost at the door to Malfoy's office. Hermione caught his sleeve trying to stop him from doing anything stupid but he squeezed out of her grip, almost knocked down Malfoy's secretary and was now opening the door.

'…she's in St Mungo's, there's nothing they can do.'. Lucius Malfoy stopped talking as the door banged on the wall when Zabini pushed it open. His face was almost blank, only a faint hint of something that Hermione read as a combination of disgust and boredom, when his eyes met hers. She did not dare to walk in, and instead remained on the doorstep.

Zabini didn't say anything, just smashed the Prophet on Malfoy's desk and looked at him expectantly. Malfoy in turn, lazily looked at the page and then stared back at Zabini as if daring him to accuse him of something. She was still standing outside of the office and so she only saw Zabini's back. He was now leaning across Malfoy's enormous desk, and Hermione had an irrational thought that Zabini is going to kiss him. Instead, she heard a barely audible hiss.

'If you're congratulating yourself on sabotaging me and the work of my department, let me quickly assure you that you started your celebrations prematurely. I am afraid that in your haste to paint me as the biggest imbecile under the sun, you overlooked the tiny detail of the body being found in _your_ department.'. Malfoy looked at the newspaper again and this time he theatrically gasped. Hermione slowly closed her eyes. She knew Zabini was going to get them in trouble.

'The _audacity_! To think that a newspaper would write about the murder inside the ministry! The day after it happened! What has this world come to?!' Malfoy was now standing, his right hand on his heart, looking almost as if he was going to pass out from distress. Almost.

His agitated face suddenly became blank again, and he sat back down, calm and collected as if he wasn't just pretending to be two steps away from a heart attack.

'Contrary to popular belief, owning a newspaper does not mean I can use it as a tube for ministerial propaganda. They told me it was going to print, but I did not have a say in the matter. I suppose I could have warned you, but then again, it's your department who's responsible for the documentation that has been copied, if not stolen. And please, mister Zabini do spare me your threats regarding my station in this institution. You should know by now that the Malfoys _are_ the Ministry.' Lucius was speaking in a deliberate manner, not once blinking or looking away from Zabini's face. 'And maybe there will be a time when the winds of time will grind that building into the ground and us with it. Maybe the age of our leadership will come to an end… but I somehow doubt it will be done by a moronic wannabe detective, whose biggest achievement to date is passing his NEWTS.' Hermione was in awe of how Malfoy could speak so clearly when he was barely opening his mouth while speaking. She looked at Zabini, who looked even more aggravated than he was when he first came in to the Malfoy's office.

She thought he looked uncomfortable, embarrassed even, and briefly wondered if it was because Lucius Malfoy was the closest thing Zabini had to a father, before his falling out with Draco.

'I believe I am intruding. If there is nothing else you would wish from me, Mister Malfoy…' Hermione almost jumped. She completely forgot about the man Lucius Malfoy was talking to when they walked in. He was sitting in the armchair situated to the right from the entrance. From where she was standing Hermione could only see his feet. She noted with a smile that he was wearing Oxfords.

'My apologies. It was not my intention to subjugate you to Mister Zabini's presence. I do have a small issue I would still like to discuss, if you would be so kind to wait in the corridor. I am afraid I need to have a quick chat with Mister Zabini. In private', added Lucius when he saw Hermione frown. She reluctantly took few steps back resolved to wait for Zabini. Malfoy's guest stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him. He turned to her and she saw his face for the first time.

He had, what her mother would describe as 'an air of debonair'. He was dressed in black robes, that looked like they have costed a fortune. His posture was elegant, but relaxed. He nodded at her, a bit surprised to see her and moved to sit on the bench beside the wall. He made no move to introduce himself.

Hermione was standing next to the door to Malfoy's office, her hands folded on her chest. She was looking at the stranger sitting opposite of her. He was pale, had black wavy hair, and a certain angularity to his face which she found attractive. He was reading a newspaper which he must have taken from Malfoy's desk.

Few minutes passed, and Hermione was torn between feeling impatient and concerned. She had no idea how Slytherins resolved their conflicts and was hoping they opted for more civilized methods than duelling.

'This is going to turn into a media circus, isn't it?', asked the stranger.

'Sorry?', she asked as if she did not hear him. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to respond.

'This dead gentleman. He's like what, the second person in charge of finding out who is killing the muggleborns that is found dead?'

'Third, actually'.

'Ah… even worse, then'. He started reading again when she didn't respond to his last statement.

Hermione quietly sat down next to him, on the bench.

'I am sorry. I don't mean to be rude. It's just that I knew him. He was a friend.', said Hermione.

'My apologies. I did not mean any disrespect. My condolences, Miss…?', he asked looking genuinely troubled.

'Thank you, and it's Granger. Hermione Granger'.

The stranger caught her hand in his and shook it, instead of kissing it.

'Tom Riddle, it's a pleasure'. Hermione thought he was nice.


End file.
